


Sunny Side Up

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: (and breakfast), (feat. collars), Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: Chrono sometimes questions a lot of his life choices, but he regrets none of them(it's just D/s domestic fluff)





	Sunny Side Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tomurai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomurai/gifts).



> Got prompted for ibukuro and collars
> 
> One day I'll finish the longer fic I have on the topic...

Watching Ibuki all dressed up in his high collared shirt and his coat and his long, shielding hair, knowing that the entire time he was feeling the collar Chrono had locked around his neck resting against his skin, was something Chrono already knew he would enjoy, his blood tingling with excitement and power, if sometimes also a little guilt. Seeing him at _home_ , once they moved in together, the jacket off and the shirt open, collar right in the open as he sips his coffee or watches tv or sorts through some papers that he keeps bringing from work despite Chrono's pointed frowning, was more challenging, catching him now and then with a little lurch to his heart at how _natural_ , how _casual_ he makes it look, a fact of life, a universal truth.  
Ibuki hesitantly lowering a tray onto the bed as he barely wakes up on a late Sunday morning, hair tied up out of the way and collar in plain view, face still a little red, the fruit of very careful cooking waiting for him to wake up enough to have breakfast… is something nothing could have prepared him for, and only the awareness that it could be taken the wrong way stops him from falling back into the bed face first and hiding in his pillow until he can _deal_.  
So that was why he'd asked him for pointers. And probably why he'd been cooking behind Chrono's back, hiding his tracks by cleaning the kitchen afterwards, as if Chrono wouldn't smell the difference the moment he got through the door. All so he could get him _breakfast in bed_.  
This guy is gonna be the death of him. And he can't even damage control, because let's be honest, he's _never_ giving him up unless he leaves of his own accord, and as things stand that doesn't seem likely.  
“… it's noon,” Ibuki says, straightforward and apologetic, and Chrono reads between the lines what seems so obvious to him. _Sorry for waking you up. Is it still too early? Is this unwanted? Did I mess up?_  
Chrono winces.  
“Good thing you woke me up.”  
Immediately, a small smile slides on Ibuki's face. Chrono smiles back, and sits up straighter, moving back so Ibuki and his tray can sit.  
Another look at the contents of the tray, and he finds himself wanting to hide all over again.  
It's perfect. Eggs cooked just right (how many tries did it even take him to get them right? He used to burn them when he started), fluffy bread just barely crispy on the edges, a small salad with pieces of fruit in it, a bowl of soup and a cup of fragrant hot tea. Not exactly his standard breakfast, but one tailored to his habits and tastes nonetheless, the fruit of constant observation that he should be _used_ to by now but never fails to surprise him in little ways.  
“… you're the best,” he mutters, stretching above the tray to kiss Ibuki's cheek. “This is amazing.”  
“… you don't know that until you've tasted it,” Ibuki says, looking away.  
“I have a good eye for this stuff,” Chrono chuckles, but he goes for one of the eggs anyway, cutting it and eating half and gathering some of the yolk with his bread. “See? Perfect. You did an amazing job.”  
“… I had a good teacher.”  
With the food, Chrono's composure finally starts to return. Enough for him to laugh a little and reach for his soup—a little on the salty side, but otherwise very nice.  
“… did you get anything for yourself?” he asks.  
“…I'm fine.”  
“I knew it,” Chrono sighs. “Here, open your mouth.”  
Ibuki almost protests, but Chrono's stare is enough for him to stop himself in his tracks and open his mouth instead. Chrono promptly takes his chance to slide a forkful of fruit into it.  
“Next time,” he says, reaching to stroke his jaw a little, and then down his neck, back to the collar, his fingers tracing it idly, “make something for both of us, and then we can _both_ laze in bed with breakfast, hm?”  
And just as planned, the mention of a 'next time' is enough to get Ibuki's eyes to light up with pride.

(It's hours later, after successfully dragging Ibuki back into bed for a nap that he so badly needed, that it all catches up to him, the emotion slamming into him until he can barely breathe. But no matter how too good to be true it might feel, he has reality to hold on to, the warmth of Ibuki in his arms, the remaining teacup on his nightstand, the faraway sounds of traffic. The breath breaking against his chest and neck in a slow rhythmical caress. The metal lying against naked shoulders, a reminder that he's here to stay.  
Chrono trails his fingers along its curves, and lets him reflexively curl closer, and closes his eyes.)


End file.
